Publicity
by Steelfeathers
Summary: Possible Oneshot: During their time on Earth, the Autobots have run afoul of many Tv and Newspaper reporters. This time its up the Sunstreaker to show humanity what they're really like. Oh dear.


Publicity

Sunstreaker grumbled to himself about the weather, humans, Red Alert and the mud ball planet in general as he sat along with Ironhide in the packed college parking lot. Oh how he hated this retched assignment! To be stuck all slaggin' day in the blistering heat with the tarmac melting under his tires was bad enough, but they _had_ to be someplace packed with humans who all had to bump into him, messing up his pristine paint coat and leaving a disgusting _human_ smell as they went. Yuck.

He nearly transformed right then and there and stomped a slutty blonde into oblivion when she keyed his diver side door as she walked past him. The nerve of that flesh creature! Did she have any idea who she was dealing with!

Apparently, as Ironhide so astutely mentioned, if they didn't recognize the Autobot symbol on their hoods then the answer was obviously no. They were simply another van and sports car together in the overflowing parking lot there to serve guard duty to some professor whats-his-face or other who HAPPENED to be an energy researcher that Megatron MIGHT try to abduct. What a marvelous way to spend the day.

Sunstreaker revved his engine in annoyance, but was rebuked immediately by Ironhide over the comm link. They were not supposed to let anyone know why they were there or- more importantly- that they were there at all. And a sportscar with a bright red sigil on its hood revving its engine autonomously was definitely a give way that something was not right.

While the media might be used as a tool to achieve results in some circumstances, all it had so far done for the Autobots was earn them weird looks, death threats and generally humiliate them. TV and newspapers thrived on devastation, so anytime there was a battle with a particularly high amount of collateral damage, the reporters swarmed like cockroaches. Yet whenever a bot pulled a helpless human child from the wreckage or set up a special program for some charity or other, they were nowhere to be found. If they were lucky, the story ended up on page 12 in the humanitarian section.

So here they were, four hours later, the sun beating down on them, the putrid smell of earthen gasoline defiling their intakes. Sunstreaker was about ready to trade the planet, all their energon and maybe even Sideswipe to boot for a ticket back to Cybertron. It was, of course, at that moment that he saw a lone woman making her way between the cars a few rows from him.

He prayed to Primus that she would stay the slag away from him.

She approached a beat up little Dodge Neon, turned the key in the lock, opened the door and sat in the smoking hot cloth seat and proceeded to try to start her car. The engine gurgled, coughed, stalled, then died. She tried again with the same results. Sunstreaker saw her slam her hands against the steering wheel in frustration, then reach over into her bag and rummage through it, likely looking for a cell phone. When she couldn't find it, she smacked the flat of her hand against the steering wheel against, throwing open the door and getting back out of the car.

Sunstreaker almost laughed at the predicament of the poor human. Almost.

She began to stalk back across the parking lot, bag slung over her shoulder, when she suddenly stopped and looked right at him. She stood there, hesitating, looking back towards the crowded auditorium, then made her way over to him between the cars.

Blast it all with a grease gun to the Pit.

She stopped in front of him, and distantly he heard Ironhide radio him to remember their orders and not reveal themselves. Not that he needed reminding. There was no way that he was transforming in front of the female to have her faint, or start sputtering nonsense or curse him like all other humans seemed to do. Not even Primus himself could have made him move.

She readjusted her glasses, pushing them up on the bridge of her nose, then smiled faintly.

"Hello there." Fraggit all, she recognized what he was. He remained stolidly silent.

"I saw the symbol on your hood and knew that you were an Autobot." He wouldn't confirm or deny it. That's right human, I'm not going to answer you, so you can just leave feeling stupid that you were talking to a car.

"My car broke down and, silly me, I forget my cell phone at home. I guess I was too preoccupied trying to get all my books together, as well as a list of questions and my camera."

Camera? Oh Primus, she was a reporter.

"Yeah well, you probably know how reporters are- They remember their job but forget the important things." She gave a small, surprisingly pleasing laugh.

"The same is true with their stories; all they want to show are the juicy horror stories that sell and forget that they're observers and not just entertainers. Observers should show everything, the good and the bad. With you guys I guess we just kind of forget that and all." She laughed lightly again.

Sunstreaker was confused, as well as mildly agitated. This women rambled on and refused to get to the point. He might not have felt sorry for her, as it was her own fault that she was stuck as she readily admitted, but on another level he was intrigued by her approach to the media- it was one he had never heard before. Was it possible that this human had some integrity after all?

"Oh, excuse me. Where are my manners? I'm Alisa- Alisa Worthington. And you must be….. Sunstreaker, right? I'd recognize that paint job any where. Though, for being such a vain Autobot, I'll admit that I was a little surprised to see a key mark on your door…"

She bent over to inspect the offending scratch, and Sunstreaker decided that he simply couldn't take in any more.

"What do you want?" He asked gruffly, trying to ward of her questing fingers. It worked like a charm. She straightened up and grinned at him.

"Well, I was HOPING I could bum a ride off of you." If he could have gaped, he would have. This human was actually asking him for a ride? At first he felt disgust at the thought of having the female actually sitting in his seats, but beyond that, he was amazed. Considering how they were portrayed on TV and all the riots and demonstrations against them, he had to wonder at this women's easy-going nature around him, being an Autobot 'invader', as they were labeled.

He paused, and the soft side that had been growing within him since his arrival on earth considered really giving her the requested ride. Ironhide could more than handle what was left of the convention, and he was curious to find out more about this strange human reporter who was unafraid of him and who wanted to 'show the good and the bad' as she put it.

He popped open his door.

"Sunstreaker!" Ironhide hissed at him as the woman- Alisa- climbed into his driver seat.

"Chill out. I'll be back in a minute." He closed the door behind her when she had settled herself, slipping the seatbelt into place over her lap and revving his engine. Ironhide continued to grumble threats at him, but he ignored them as he maneuvered his way out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

"Ok, first things first. No touching anything. All those cool little buttons and gizmos on my dashboard might just eject you into the middle of the road if you touch them. Second, no doing any gross…. human things."

Alisa, rather than looking offended, seemed amused.

"Like what kind of human things?" She teased him. He sighed.

"Just don't do ANYTHING." She shrugged, moving to put her hands on the steering wheel. He was about to object, fearing her hands to be slimy, but found instead that they were warm and dry and somehow pleasing to his CPU as they rested lightly against him.

"So, where am I taking you?" He asked to change the subject.

"6524, Overview Drive. -Know where it is?" There was a small clicking noise as he searched his database, finding the address.

"Now I do."

She smiled again, snuggling down into his leather seats. At first he was revolted as he usually was, but little by little he was coming to feel something else that overcame this first reaction. Though he had known her scarcely15 minutes, he was beginning to like the company of this human- Alisa- and he didn't mind the action as much.

As they sat in silence, he thought about how different she was from the other humans he had met. She didn't scream at him, or chatter on as she sat inside of him. The silence between them wasn't awkward- it was comforting.

Sometimes the most profound things were said when no words were spoken.

Finally, after what seemed to Sunstreaker to be far too short a time, he was pulling into the driveway of a modest, whitewashed house. Alisa unbuckled her seat belt and stepped out onto the pavement, and for a moment he hesitated, not really wanted to leave. It had occurred to him that he enjoyed her company immensely, but he would probably never see her again.

"So….are you going to call someone to get your car?" He started, a little unsure of himself.

"Yep. My brother- He owns a tow truck for his business." Sunstreaker felt the plan he had been forming deflate as though it was a balloon that had been punctured. So much for offering to bring her car to the shop for her as an excuse to see her again.

"Oh." They stood in silence facing each other, him in his alt mode and her with her backpack slung over her shoulder, and this time it _was_ uncomfortable.

"Oh!" She started suddenly, reaching into her backpack and pulling out a camera bag. He immediately was on guard again. "Can I take your picture? You know, so that I can say that I got a ride with an Autobot?"

"Are you going to publish it?" He asked, a little harsher than he meant to.

"Maybe. But you'll like the article, I promise."

She promised. What were human promises to him? They broke them all the time. But maybe, just maybe, some good would come of it.

"Fine." She giggled.

"Well, I need you to transform, silly!"

Oh. Duh.

He unfolded his body to his full height, now towering over her. She whistled in admiration.

"Nice! Ok, now strike a pose!"

A pose? Like what kind of pose? He remembered something he had seen Jazz doing one time.

"Like this?"

She looked like she was going to burst, she was trying so hard not to laugh.

"S-sure. It's great" The flash went off, the shutter closed, and the painful process of having his picture taken was over in less than half a second.

"Okey-dokey! I'm all set." Sunstreaker relaxed, transforming back into his alt mode. He watched as she headed back to her house, waving at him.

"Hey, Alisa?" He called hesitantly, not entirely sure that he wanted to be doing this. She turned back to him, hand on the door knob.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think- umm….I mean, since your car's in the shop, maybe I could give you a ride tomorrow?" she blinked.

"You're actually offering to ferry me around for the day?"

"Well, I don't know about 'ferrying', but it seems like an awful long walk to get back to the college….and, well, I enjoyed your company….." He trailed off, knowing how uncharacteristic of him that speech sounded. What happened to the self-assured, fast talking bad-ass?

She smiled knowingly. "Yeah, I'd like that. And I promise not to touch anything."

"Good."

"Well, goodbye, Sunstreaker."

"Sunny." He corrected her suddenly. Her smile widened.

"Well, Sunny, I guess I'll see you tomorrow at seven."

"SEVEN!" He gaped, "How can you get up that early! Awe man!"

She laughed again, sending a wave of warmth through his spark core.

"Well, you volunteered, so now you're stuck with me."

Sunstreaker, a little put out, got a mischievous idea.

He pulled quickly out of her driveway, turned, then sped up her driveway again, knocking over the red gnome that sat defiling the front yard.

"Hey!" She yelled, running into the driveway. Sunstreaker pulled out into the street again, revving his engine, cackling like a maniac.

"That's for the 'vain' crack!" He sped off down the street.

"It was uglier than a grease covered skid plate, too!" he crowed triumphantly. Alisa could only laugh and laugh.

The next day, to everyone at the Ark's amazement, the front page of the local newspaper sported a large picture of Sunstreaker in a hilarious super-man pose, followed by an article of how the self-absorbed Transformer gave a strange reporter a ride home.

Surprisingly, they only received half the unusual number of death threats that day.


End file.
